


Cliché (import from ff.net)

by moor



Category: Saiunkoku Monogatari
Genre: Drama, F/M, PWP, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Seiran x Kouchou. A misunderstanding.





	Cliché (import from ff.net)

Title:  **cliche**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Romance/Family  
Published: 01-17-10, Updated: 01-17-10  
Chapters: 1, Words: 1,158

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

**[Week 64] [Word Count: 1000] [Theme: Cliché]**

**Title:** Cliché  
 **Author:** beyondthemoor on LJ  
 **Genre:** Gen?  
 **Word Count:** approx. 1060 words (Dammit! Just missed the limit. So it doesn't count for the prompt/challenge, but I'm posting it anyway.) XD  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Characters:** Seiran, Kouchou  
 **AU/Cannon:** Cannon-ish  
 **Theme/Prompt:** Cliché

AN: Written for the saiun_challenge LJ comm!

* * *

Shuurei looked from one (a very pale Seiran kneeling on the lavishly woven rug) to the other (a very ill, but fiercely angry Kouchou-neesan lying on her futon), as she entered the private rooms of the latter.

She paused a moment before speaking, wary of triggering something that would snap the tightly wound tension that wrapped around the room's occupants. The room felt claustrophobic, and the normally enticing, lingering scent of the Kougarou mistress's perfume was now cloying, choking the younger woman's throat.

But what made her come to a full stop was the expression on Kouchou-neesan's face. The lovely woman hadn't even turned to look at her as she entered - and she'd always welcomed Shuurei with a smile and a teasing greeting (and more often than not, a suffocating, bosom embrace). The room was too quiet.

That evening, Kouchou had not even acknowledged her arrival.

Shuurei glanced to the side, noting the visitor. And why was Seiran there?

So she started to ask, "Is something the matt-," but was interrupted by her host with a patient, but strained look, and something in Seiran's face, when she glanced at him, told her to stay away. Not in an unfriendly way, not in a dangerous way, but in a  _'this is private_ ' way.

It was one of those situations Shuurei would always become acutely conscious of as being an 'adult' moment. Serious, deeply personal, and intimate. Something that could only be shared between two who understood each other implicitly, who didn't need words to communicate their thoughts and intentions, and between whom silence could be an entire conversation, in the right setting. She remembered snatches of seeing her parents enjoy their time quietly together, their looks and gazes speaking volumes between them over her childish head. She hadn't understood the words, then.

But she saw that same understanding, though measuredly heavier, passing between her two closest people just in front of her eyes now.

_Private._

Without a word, she stepped from the room back into the hall, and slid the door shut behind her.

* * *

"There is a flu going around. It is none of your concern."

Still looking uncertainly at the floor by the end of her bed, Seiran shook his head.

"When you fainted, it seemed like-."

"It isn't what you think. And even if it were, there would be no need of... this. Your nobility is flattering, but unnecessary. Now, you'd be more useful helping Shuurei at the front."

At her dismissive words, the exiled prince's head snapped up, his hard eyes finding hers before she deliberately looked at the door.

Her intention was clear.

He ignored it.

"If it was what I thought it was, nobility would be at both the forefront of, and the least of, our concerns," he said evenly.

And it would be true. Ryuuki had no heir yet; there were still those who sought to overthrow him. The discovery of a second member of the royal line, with a potential heir on the way, would not only endanger Ryuuki, it would endanger Kouchou herself, and the child. Because while there were plenty who wanted to usurp Ryuuki, there were also many who supported him, and would do anything, no matter how disgraceful, to keep him in power. The kowtowed former prince knew too much of such political 'insurance' practices.

And Seiran, as he'd always strived for the wellbeing of others, would never suffer that a part of him, a life so precious, be put at risk. Ryuuki, Ojou-sama, Kouchou, and now...

With a huff, Kouchou reclined back on her bed again, and sighed before continuing. She truly was tired, to reveal so much of her irritation to him.

"Even if it were what you thought," his lover said just as evenly, "the safest place it could ever be would be here, within our walls."

A part of him wanted to insist otherwise, but he couldn't disagree with some of the logic in her words.

"... and it would know love here. From both its parents..." He heard her continue.

But there was more behind her words, more she revealed to him.

 _Stay_ , she implied.  _Be selfish, and stay._

Their eyes met, more softly this time.

As when Shuurei had interrupted them earlier, the conversation continued silently between them, emotions veiled and unveiled in the arch of a brow, the release of tension in a sigh, and eventually the drowsy patting of the side of the futon in resigned invitation.

The futon shifted minutely under them, but didn't make a sound. Long, silvery hair hung loose over Seiran's face as he leaned down over Kouchou to kiss her damp brow, smoothing hair away from her face.

"When she finds her own way out there," murmured Kouchou, cradling Seiran's cool palm to her feverish cheek, "you are welcome here. You know that, you silly man."

Abandoning for a moment the illusion of her perfect facade, the mistress yawned and let her eyes drift shut. It was just for a moment, and she'd never normally allow herself to indulge in such a way, exposing her vulnerability, in front of others... but with him, just a small yawn was safe.

"But really, how could you have thought... To think we wouldn't know how to take care of things, here..."

Trailing a thumb lightly over the sensitive, dark-smudged skin beneath her unpainted eyes, Seiran watched as she fell asleep, exhausted from their verbal spar.

Even now, he observed as she held herself gracefully, breathing quietly in and out, occasionally coughing delicately with the congestion that assailed her. Trained to present the image of a perfect lady, always, even in sickness, even in sleep.

And it was partly because of that immense self-control she wielded over herself that he'd panicked at the gossip - that she'd fainted, been sick, been sleeping in recently in the mornings... What was he to think?

He'd jumped to conclusions after hearing rumours of such clichéd indicators of a woman's condition... His mouth tightened for a moment. Served him right.

Shuurei looked up at him in concern when he met her at the rear exit as they left that night.

"Is everything all right? Did Kouchou-neesan give you some bad news?..."

"Nothing to worry about," he insisted, tacking on his usual polite smile for her.

"Oh... you seemed a bit disappointed, that's all."

"She has offered me another job again."

* * *

17 Jan, 2010. END.


End file.
